The Long Way Home (10 page)

Finally satisfied, the guards withdrew; as soon as the key clicked in the lock, Danny’s team attacked the window that we were to go through. We three began to change into the clothes we
were going to leave in. Time was now of the essence, as we knew that in about fifteen minutes the first perimeter patrol would begin and before that we would have to be completely clear of the
camp.

All three of us hit the finishing tape together in our personal preparations and Danny signalled that the window was cleared for Joe to operate on the barbed wire on the outside – which he
promptly did. Danny had told us that when we hit the ground on the outside we should get going immediately, and he would close up the wire and restore everything to normal. This was an amazing
blessing with time so short. Jimmy was to go first as he was the biggest; if he got out safely, then our first problem was solved. He had worked out how he would make the difficult exit through the
space in the bars. Joe and I watched him very carefully. In a few seconds he was out and dropped to the ground. Joe followed, and I was right behind him.

With a quick ‘thumbs up’ to the boys watching at the window, we were off and running to the part of the perimeter fence that we had decided to go through. In about half a minute, Joe
had cut enough barbed wire to let us crawl through, and half a minute later he had it resealed. This done, we stole away to the cover of some trees nearby. As soon as we were in cover, we silently
hugged each other in congratulation, and then it became my problem to take the lead and guide us to the promised land which, in this instance, was Bad Karlsbrunn.

Away from the lights of the compound, the darkness became more intense, but our eyes rapidly adjusted and it was a beautiful clear starlit night – better visibility than many of the nights
that I had already been out. The adrenalin was still running high, and we had to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the camp. It took about five minutes before I picked up the
road that would take us out of town and finally on to Karlsbrunn. Twenty minutes later we were almost clear of the last houses and reaching the open countryside. Our plan was to use the main road
as much as possible, as this was the only way we could cover the distance involved and reach our destination before dawn. We removed the heavy socks that we had pulled over our boots when we were
moving through the area with houses and would put them on again when we felt we were too loud. They would have worn through too quickly if we had kept them on all the time.

We kept silent while we were marching but stopped at odd intervals for a confab. We even had to stifle our giggles on the first rest when we all agreed that our eyes and ears felt ten times as
big as normal.

Our first problem came when we approached a village right on the main road. How were we going to deal with it? The choice was either to walk straight through or go round it. For safety’s
sake we decided to take the long route. In daylight it might have been a simple detour, but at night we lost so much valuable time and got into such a mess that we decided to take the direct route
in future. It began to dawn on us that at our present rate of progress we were not going to reach our target on time, so we agreed to step up the pace. This is when we discovered what our stupid
game of football had done to us. Within an hour of going at the faster speed all three of us were feeling the effect on our leg muscles, and as we were almost continually climbing now, the strain
was getting worse all the time. We knew that we had to be under cover before daybreak; the alarm would be raised by then, and to be out in the open would be fatal. I had no idea where we might hide
safely for a whole day in the woods.

By my reckoning we still had about ten kilometres to go and dawn was only a couple of hours away. Normally this would have been no great problem, but with our leg muscles screaming for rest, it
was becoming cripplingly clear that the odds were against us arriving on time. We stopped for a couple of precious minutes and talked over the situation. We decided it was a case of heads down and
try our damnedest. Maybe the pains would go away. They didn’t, but they didn’t get any worse, and I think what saved us was that none of us wanted to be the one to say that he
couldn’t go on.

There were no more villages to go through, so it was a straight slog all the way now. The miles slowly rolled by and, in these final stages, I think our brains became numb, although I
can’t say the same for our legs, which continued to complain bitterly about their treatment. The sky was becoming noticeably lighter when we reached the top of our climb, and this was where
we had to part company; Jimmy and Joe were to make their way to a hut in the forest which was once used by hunters. We had discovered it when we worked in Karlsbrunn and had stowed away a couple of
blankets there, which would be very useful for the boys. I now had to make my way down behind the village to Traudl’s hotel and see if it was safe to climb in the bedroom window which, God
and Traudl willing, I might find unlocked.

We said our ‘Auf Wiedersehens’ and arranged our contact times. We parted company, hoping that all would go well for both parties.

Jimmy and Joe were to keep under cover in the hut while I tried to forge some kind of travel documents for us. Without these it would be impossible to travel by train. From what
we had learned over the last four years, rail was the only way we could possibly cover the distance from Sudetenland to the northern coast at Stettin. From Stettin we would try to stow away on a
ship going to Sweden. To do a good job of the travel documents I would, of course, have to have warm, comfortable surroundings and a source of the necessary materials. Traudl’s bedroom was
the obvious place, and the source was to be Traudl herself. How lucky can you get?

When I parted from the boys, I worked my way down to the rear of the hotel via the trees on the upper side of the village, and by this time it was almost daylight. After a quick look around to
check that the coast was clear, and a smart walk with my heart in my mouth, I was directly under Traudl’s window. With a prayer on my lips I jumped for the ledge below the window and pushed
up the lower part of the window. It opened smoothly.

Seconds later, I was over the sill and safely into my favourite bedroom. Once inside, I watched intently for a while to see if there was any movement in the vicinity, but everything remained
peaceful. The night-light at the bedside came on and Traudl was holding out her welcoming arms. In no time at all I was snuggled down and felt as if I would never get out of bed again. The euphoria
didn’t last long; Traudl whispered that it was time for her to go on duty and that when she left the room I would have to lock the door from the inside so that on-one could enter, even with a
pass key.

This led to a very frightening experience for the poor girl, as it was twelve hours later before I heard her knocking to get in. When I opened the door she was in a terrible state; she had tried
to wake me at various times during the day without success, and only at six o’clock in the evening did she succeed, finally delivering the meal that she had lovingly prepared earlier.

As she was now off duty, we had a long talk about all that had happened since we last met. Then we discussed what was to be done about the documents we needed. Traudl thought that the simplest
solution would be for us to carry the normal German identity cards; when she showed me hers, I agreed that to copy them might just be a possibility, given that we could obtain materials to do the
job. And so to bed.

Next day I began the search for paper as close as possible in texture and colour to the ID card that had to be copied. I finally found blank pages in some old books that would do nicely. Traudl
produced a variety of pens and different inks because, apart from the print, there were also rubber stamps to be copied. Only when we had all the materials together did it finally dawn on me that
the most important thing for an ID card was missing – our photographs. I nearly cried.

Traudl wisely pointed out that passport and ID photos were never really a close likeness anyway. She then produced all the photographs of men from the family albums that were approximately the
right size. Not one of the photos looked like any of us three. We made a choice of three, on the most tenuous of grounds. One appeared to be blond, so that would be Jimmy. Of the other two, one
couldn’t possibly be Joe so he would have to be me. That left one, who must be Joe. In the end, it was all very simple.

I spend four tense and tiring hours working on the first ID card copy, but when I stopped and really looked at it, the result was so poor that it got torn up and thrown in the fire. Instead of
feeling despondent about my first attempt, I buckled down to the fact that I would have to do better and in the next two days produced what I thought were a couple of masterpieces. Traudl agreed
that they were not bad and came up with the brilliant idea of acquiring three plastic holders for them, which would help to disguise them a bit. At a quick glance, folded with the photo and
identity particulars outward inside the holders, they looked quite authentic, we thought. Next day I finished the two pages that would be exposed on the third ID and decided not to bother with the
eagle, swastika and other details on the inside as they wouldn’t be seen. Thus I completed the third and final document.

At least that’s what I thought. When the boys and I made our rendezvous in the woods that night and I explained to them what I had done, they were both adamant that the third card should
be completed and it didn’t matter how tired or fed up I was. So I had to go back to the drawing board. Their insistence on the completion of the third card saved our lives later, as it turned
out. Next day, I grudgingly finished the job. We were now at the stage where we must move on, as we had endangered Traudl for far too long.

Our next step was to collect the escape clothing that we had hidden away in Karlsbrunn previously, including the iron rations we would be carrying to help us reach our
destination. These consisted mainly of chocolate and biscuits and a few tins of meat, all of which had been saved from our Red Cross parcels. Also included in this valuable hoard was the German
currency that we had acquired from various sources. This was added to the money we had accumulated on our last visit to the main camp. Two old briefcases and an old rucksack completed our new
civilian outfits, as all of the workmen carried these, or something similar, when they were on the move. Our shaving gear, plus a towel, soap and comb, had come with us from Jägerndorf and
would naturally be included.

Traudl had been working hard to teach me the most likely phrases that might be required on the journey, such as buying train tickets or asking directions, or things you might want to ask in a
restaurant. Her advice was that the best person to ask was a policeman. This made good sense to me as they have local knowledge. At home they’re the most helpful of people and Traudl said
they were the same in Germany.

We had been a bit concerned about the weather; there had been a slight flurry of snow on the day that we decided our preparations were complete. However, it cleared quite quickly and the spring
sun shone again, so we made up our minds to get on with it. The decision made, we were off next day, at the ungodly hour of 2 a.m.

This part of the journey required us to go on foot from Karlsbrunn, mainly downhill, some eight or nine miles to the railhead at Wurbenthal, the same station we had arrived at two years before
when we came from upper Silesia, and also on our return to Sudetenland fairly recently. There was a local bus which made this run but, after working in the area for two years, we couldn’t
take the chance of someone recognising us.

Traudl and I said our final farewells, and after a tearful parting and a promise to return, I left to join the boys and continue our journey home. Since we had broken out of camp in
Jägerndorf I don’t think I ever entertained one negative thought about being recaptured. Even though we still had over two hundred and fifty miles to cover as the crow flies, I felt it
was a one-way journey. It is just as well that we didn’t know that fate was setting up one of the biggest booby-traps in history.

At two o’clock on the morning of 25 March we set off at a leisurely pace, knowing that on this stage there was no urgency. We had lots of time to reach the station and catch our train.
March in the mountains could be very chancy for weather, but today there was a real touch of spring in the air, which transferred itself to our legs. We all felt fit after our enforced rest, but
there was a touch of sadness at finally leaving Karlsbrunn, which had sheltered us from the horrors of war for two peaceful years.

The road we were now taking was reputedly traffic-free at night, and tonight was no exception. We knew there was only one small village to pass and our rapid downhill progress needed to be
slowed down drastically. Our arrival at Wurbenthal had to coincide with the early morning movements of the local population. An old barn at the roadside provided us with the ideal shelter for an
hour’s rest. Joe had to move from the original heap of straw that he sat on when it began to move, but he apologised politely and found another unoccupied spot with no nest of mice. Once we
set off, the aim was not to be furtive, but at all costs to avoid being conspicuous. When we finally entered the town, there was enough early morning movement to keep us comfortable as we made our
way to the railway station.

I wonder if you can imagine how I felt when I had to approach that little window and ask for three tickets to Sagan. It would either be the beginning or the end of our journey. What would
happen? Stagefright maybe, with no words coming out. Total loss of memory of the German phrases I had so painstakingly learned? Maybe Jimmy or Joe wouldn’t mind going over and buying the
tickets. It was the Bren-gun situation at La Capelle all over again. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut instead of saying: ‘All right, I’ll do that’?